Rain batters the cobbled driveway that leads to the front door, where he stands now. He knocks again. It is harder this time. He waits...

She rolls over and looks at the alarm clock on the night table. 2:17 illuminates back at her. She waits for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, kicks the comforter down and sits up.

THUD THUD THUD!

She jumps, startled. She clicks on the bedside lamp and slips her robe around her slender frame. She stands and leaves her room to head toward the pounding at the front door, flicking light switches on along the way.

She yells back at the impatient knocking, "I'm coming, chill the fuck out before you break the door!"

She leans up to the peephole and surveys the man outside. He is obviously soaked from the storm, shivering with his hands shoved deep inside of his jacket pockets.

She steps back from the door tentatively and asks, "Who is it? Do I know you?"

"Pardon me, Miss." replied back in a deep voice. "My car is having trouble. May I use your phone to call the auto club?". He explained, "My cell isn't getting any reception through this storm."

She examines him once more through the tiny one way window of the door. It's difficult for her to make out any distinctive features on the drenched figure out in the darkness. The light must be out again, she thinks to herself.

"Hang on a minute." she stalls.

She considers the consequences for a moment; she adjusts her robe tying the sash around her waistline. She smoothes her hair with her fingers, and turns the key already in the lock of the deadbolt. It unlocks with a loud click, she pulls the door open.

She takes a step back from the door and tells him, "Yeah, Hi. Come in."

"Thank you, Miss." he chimes in a slightly southern accent, "It's pouring down somethin' fierce out there."

He steps into her kitchen, tracking mud and debris onto the tiled floor. He pays it no attention as he notices her cleavage peaking through her robe. She looks down at the mess and crinkles her nose in disapproval, looking up in time to see his eyes avert from her chest.

He interjects before she can mention anything, "If you could just point me to the phone, Miss, I'll be out of your hair."

He looks her body over and proceeds to casually remove his jacket. He slings it, dripping, over the back of the kitchen chair closest to him. She feels his stare and draws the sash of the robe tighter.

She leads him through the kitchen and into the living room. She stops at the threshold between the two rooms and points him toward the phone resting in its' cradle across the room.

"It's not long distance, is it?", she asks him with an obvious tone of annoyance.

Without missing a beat, he responds, "Not at all.".

He turns his back to her and walks toward the phone, she fails no notice his casual smirk. She does, however, take notice of a pistol handle jutting out from back of his jeans, which his jacket had previously concealed. She doesn't say anything but watches him distrustfully. He picks up the phone and dials out.

She can hear the phone ringing through the receiver and then somebody pick up. She doesn't make out what is said on the other end, but it doesn't sound like the professional voice of an auto club representative.

"Yeah... don't wait up for me tonight...", he tells the voice on the other end, "... I have some... things... to take care of."

As he hangs up the phone he turns back to face her. The washed expression across her face makes it clear that she knows that he wasn't calling for a tow. She takes an uncomfortable step back, nearly tripping as she does. She regains her posture and her attitude.

"I think it would be best if you left now.", she tells him, nodding her head towards the front door.

He begins to take slow ominous steps toward her, speaking calmly as he approaches her, "Well, yeah... I dunno... I'm awfully hungry.", he inferred, "A good host might offer me a meal or somethin'. Let's see what's in your kitchen."

He strikes her as arrogant so she smirks, and snaps back at him, "There's no damn food for you here. If you don't get your ass out of my house, I'll call the police."

She starts to walk aggressively past him, back toward the phone. His hand reaches swiftly behind his back and he brandishes the 9mm she'd seen earlier, aiming it point blank in her face and stopping her dead in her tracks.

He cocks his head slantways, looking around the gun into her eyes. He smiles a boyish grin, laughs at her and reiterates, "Yeah... see... it isn't so much of a suggestion, Miss. The thing is, "he pauses dramatically, "I don't like to fuck on an empty stomach!"

She stares down the barrel in silence for a few moments and then beyond it to meet his eyes. She holds her breath as she tries to make her next decision.

In softer, gentler tones she tries to talk him back, "Hey... it's okay, alright? Look, just put down the gun. You really don't want to hurt me, okay?"

He lowers his head, shaking it slowly from side to side and replies in seeming regret, "You're right. I'm so sorry." He lowers the gun from her face. "What have I become?"

No sooner had he lowered his aim and she exhaled her relief, he raised the gun and forcefully pistol whipped her across the face. "Hahaha!... bitch", He laughs at her. It's not that type of story.

She cries out at the shock of the pain, stunned by the blow, she realizes that she's lying on the floor. He must have struck her pretty hard. She reaches a hand to her lip and wipes away a trail of blood that trickled down her chin. The familiar metallic taste of blood lingers in her mouth and she moans painfully at the throbbing in her jaw. She pushes her arms against the floor and sits herself up, still dazed.

He stands over her. The gun once again aimed at her face. He smiles down at her, satisfied with himself. He ignores the pleading expression in her eyes, now brimming with tears. He waits for her to say something else. She says nothing.

"Now lose the robe." He points the 9mm toward her chest, signaling in a downward fashion to move more quickly. "Hurry the fuck up!"

Panicking now, she bites down on her lower lip, fighting back tears and resigning herself to the task. Her gaze averts, embarrassed, to the floor in front of her. She slowly unties the sash of the robe and drops her shoulders back, shrugging the robe off around her. As it falls, she crosses an arm protectively over her naked chest, her other hand rests between her legs.

He leans over her trembling frame and slaps her arms down so that they are at her sides and brings his face close to hers. His eyes pierce at her with malicious intent. His breath against her makes the hair stand up on the back of her neck and she turns her head away from him.

He grabs hold of one of her tits and squeezes it painfully. She yelps at the roughness in which he mauls her and he suddenly lets go. He then grabs her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinches it hard, pulling her up to her hands and knees.

"You see, bitch? I was mistaken. You're the one who needs something to eat.", he growls into her ear and presses the barrel of the gun against the other side of her skull.

She whimpers like a little girl anticipating the worst. The situation begins to sink in and her eyes spill over with tears. Her breathing shallows between new sobs and she admits to herself that she has no control left. She reluctantly gives in and decides if doing what he wants will mean getting him out of her house, than she will have to do what it takes. She just hopes it will be over fast.

She looks up at him, and then back at the growing bulge in his pants. He roughly grabs her by the hair on top of her head and shoves the gun harder against her temple.

"Do what you're told and things won't be as messy. Understood?" he orders her.

She doesn't like the way he makes the word "as" sound. He releases his grip on her hair but keeps the gun firmly in place. Reaching down, he expertly undoes the button of his pants and unzips himself, freeing his confined and rather hard cock.

She stares vacantly down the length of it and her lip quivers. She can barely manage a nod, thinking to herself that maybe it wouldn't be so bad and he'll go away if she just does this one thing. She convinces herself that she will get herself out of this in one piece. Besides that, the cold steel pressed to her head was really starting to hurt now. She swallowed her pride and reservations about ever letting a man's filthy organ enter her mouth.

She closes her eyes and her lips part slightly. She hesitates and then wills herself to open her mouth wider, taking the head of his cock into the warm, wet confines of her mouth and she begins to suck.

"Mmmm... There's a good girl.", he groans.

He eases some of the pressure of the gun's barrel from her face, but it remains diligently focused on her. He moves his free hand to the back of her head and presses her mouth further down onto his shaft until he feels his head touch the velvety softness that is the back of her throat. He feels her start to gag and pulls her head back off him.

He tells her, "Yeah, bitch. You're doing well. Now open your mouth and take it deep."

She feels his cock once again pressed against her throat so much she can no longer take in air. She strains her head back against his hand but he keeps her mouth firmly in place and shoves his dick even further. He lets her off and she fills her lungs with air, panting as she catches her breath.

She willingly wraps her lips around his cock this time. She sucks on him as she massages her mouth back and forth, her tongue flicking at him with each increasing stroke until she feels him once again forcing his way past her mouth and into the depths of her throat.

He moans as he feels her wet mouth gliding over his cock and he thrusts his hips forward, making her gag over and over, he pauses here and there just long enough to let her breathe before he fucks her face again. He stares down at her ample sized tits bouncing back and forth, enjoying her performance. He realizes she seems to be enjoying this. He withdraws his cock from her throat and mouth, a cold glint in his eye.

Thick strands of saliva connect lewdly between her lips and his cock. She reaches up and uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears clouding her vision, and then the excess spit and traces of pre-cum from her mouth and chin.

He suddenly grabs her roughly by the hair, "You're having too much fun with this.", he says darkly, and shakes her head from side to side.

He smiles malevolently down at her. He pulls her by her hair further downward, forcing her to lie completely on the floor. He moves to her side and presses the weight of his knee over her back to hold her position.

She groans as his weight presses her naked body into the cold tile. She tries to wriggle free but the tile grants no slip and her movement is restricted. She finds minimal relief as she feels him move the gun away from her head and she tries to look back, but the hand still holding tightly to her hair pushes her face back down.

"Oh FUCK!", were the first panicked words to escape her.

She could feel the chill of thick steel start to push against the opening of her pussy. Was he really going to put that weapon inside of her? Her heart begins to race. She knows what he is about to do and she struggles fearfully against it.